


Diving Off the Deep End

by elisewrites



Series: Beautiful Wreckage [10]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort No Hurt, F/M, POV Rio (Good Girls), Relationship Discussions, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soft Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisewrites/pseuds/elisewrites
Summary: Growing up, honesty was most certainlynotthe best policy.Honesty drew pitiful stares, preying men, and phone calls home that would inevitably land in her mother's unattended answering machine.It exposed her weaknesses; drew the attention of those who would mistake her candor for desperation.She hated the treatment that would follow such an assumption almost as much as she hatedbeingdesperate.She's learned a lot from twenty years of wedlock and half a year of divorce, though.She's learned that the place and time where honesty is disclosed is just as pertinent as the person it's disclosed with.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: Beautiful Wreckage [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387072
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	Diving Off the Deep End

Although Rio had thought himself accustomed to stretching his patience when it came to Elizabeth, each day ensuing their meet in the park seems to whittle away at his restraint with an increasing fervor.

He can’t quite assemble an adequate enough excuse to see her in the weeks following, especially considering he’s already exhausted the ones he _did_ have in the preceding months. Moreover, he finds it increasingly more difficult to keep his mind from wandering to her; drifting out of focus at the thought of her lips brushing against his, her tentative touch at his neck, her breathless gasps whenever his mouth would part from hers—

It’s distracting, to say the least, and there’s not much tolerance for distraction in his business.

The day this new hindrance of his really comes to pass starts in the backroom of Ginebra de Noche, an avant-garde nightclub on the southern edge of the city line. 

He had set up a meeting with the joint’s manager, Cory—a mercenary self-starter with just enough experience in the underworld to earn Rio’s consideration—two weeks prior, his connection having brought him up bearing high assurances of guile and proficiency.

Sitting in the backroom at the time of the meet, though, Rio can feel his patience slipping through the cracks of his prudently collected façade with each thump of the bass in the beat reverberating through the walls. The DJ has shown patronage to strictly boisterous rap and pop music thus far—two genres on the opposite spectrum of his own taste in music—and he can’t help but roll his head restlessly, cracking his neck as his leg bounces with excess energy. 

He’s perched on the edge of a metal coffee table, Carlos and Dags occupying the pristine leather couch, both of them shifting often enough that Rio has become keyed into every groan of the unspoiled leather. The two of them are no better than two grade schoolers waiting for their turn to cop a feel during seven minutes in heaven, but that’s besides the point. 

They’re verging on the twenty minute dilatory mark when the door to their left creaks open, revealing the thin form of Cory as he slips into the room. Shaggy blonde hair spills out from underneath a black knit cap, and judging by the black woolen coat draped over his torso, Rio presumes that he’s just arrived at the venue. His jaw ticks lightly, none too pleased at being kept waiting, but he holds off on commenting on it for the time being as Cory flashes them a warm grin, pulling the cap from his head and tossing it on the desk to his right.

“Apologies for the hold up, guys,” he says, his voice possessing a strong bass that Rio hadn’t anticipated from someone of such a slight stature. “Issue with a patron out front. Had to take care of it before I could make my way in here.”

Rio releases a sharp exhale of a laugh, his demeanor shifting into something more amicable because, well, he knows how it is; he can’t fault him for that. 

He rocks forward, rising from his seat on the table to stand before Cory. Carlos and Dags rise to bracket Rio, their movement made known by the creak of that goddamn leather couch as it’s relieved of their combined weight.

“No worries. Good to meet you,” Rio replies, offering Cory his hand and giving him his firm shake when he extends it in kind. “Ready to talk shop?”

Cory smiles with an affirmative nod, moving to settle on the edge of his desk as Rio reclaims his seat on the table. Carlos remains standing at his side while Dags looms next to the door, assuming his typical surveillance pose.

“So, it’s my understanding that you deal in both laundering and dealing,” Cory starts, lacing his fingers together in front of him and settling them on his lap.

Rio raises an eyebrow, lifting his chin in a brief nod and lacing his own fingers in front of him in a similar fashion. “We slowin’ down on the fake cash, though. The pills got a better payoff for a shorter timeframe.”

Cory nods, seeming to mull over his words. “I get what you’re saying, but I figure that we’d get a better output from washing cash on the club’s front. The majority of the guys working here wouldn’t bat an eye at some extra cash in the vault, but I can guarantee that moving pills would have them wanting a cut of the action.”

Rio rocks his jaw a little, eyes darting behind Cory in brief deliberation. Well, partial deliberation, but mostly— mostly, the mention of laundering money has his mind wandering elsewhere. 

It hauls out the memory of the day his boys had called him up about a robbery at one of many establishments he’d been running his operation through. He’d made a visit to the place himself a day after the cops had cleared out, and Carlos was on him in a moment, presenting a rather uncanny account of what went down through the security camera footage.

Rio had been out of his right mind with fury as he watched the heist unfold, subconsciously readjusting the position of his gun at his hip as he had barked out instructions to Dags and Demon. He’s never questioned how they were able to acquire the names and addresses of the women so quickly; they were long-standing at the top of his payroll for a reason.

He figures that, from an outsider’s perspective, being robbed by three suburban mothers on the brink of bankruptcy would’ve been the joke of a lifetime. 

In the moment, though, all he could see was his fury, hot and blinding—then, the glint of sunlight reflecting off the gold metal of his gun as he slammed it onto the island counter of that suburbia dream kitchen. Even later so, remembers regarding them curiously, all three in varying stages of shock as they clung to one another, most likely wondering—just as he had been—how the hell they had landed themselves there.

Except maybe, he thought, taking in the determined stare of the stacked redhead as she jutted her chin at him, willfully defiant—maybe he knew exactly how they landed themselves there.

“All good, boss?” 

Carlos’ voice breaks Rio out of his reverie, and he snaps his gaze back to Cory, unaware of which point in the conversation his mind had started to wander at. He schools his expression briskly, starkly aware of how uncharacteristic it is for him to lose focus on the job. 

“My bad, man. Just rememberin’ some shit I need t’ take care of later,” he fibs breezily with a flippant flick of his wrist, ignoring the pointed look Dags is shooting him over Cory’s shoulder.

And yeah, Rio thinks, tuning back into Cory’s proposition about manufacturing a new round of monopoly money: he’s got to do something about this.

| |

The lights are still on in Elizabeth’s house when Rio pulls up next to the curb, the soft glow of them spilling out of her living room window and illuminating the sheet of freshly cut grass below it. There’s another car in the driveway next to her mama-van, and he recognizes it just vaguely enough to place it as her sister’s, the dull blue paint peeling off of it in more places than it’s not.

Rio kills the engine after only a second’s hesitation and reaches for his beanie resting in the passenger seat. He pulls it over the tops of his ears before popping open his door and stepping out onto the pavement, the sound piercing through the tranquil suburban air. 

He rounds her house with determined strides, the unilluminated expanse of its perimeter allowing him to blend into the shadows with a practiced ease. He reckons he’s got a couple options: he could fall back into the far corner of her yard, opting to draw her away from the audience likely waiting inside, or he could let himself in the back door, catch her off guard, and likely raise a plethora of questions she’ll be more than disinclined to answer. 

A grin unfurls across his lips at the thought of that outcome, and really, the decision isn’t all that hard to make after that.

Rio feels a brief inkling of pride when he gropes across the top of the doorframe and finds that Elizabeth has removed the spare key from it (because she’s really been overdue for an in-depth lesson on home security since the second time he’d broken in that way), though he’s in no part deterred by the fact. Rather, he reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, fingers curling around the handle of his switchblade as he draws it out and flicks it open. 

Rio crouches so that he’s eye-level with the lock before going to work on it, slotting the blade into the top of the bolt and applying downward pressure. He braces a hand against the door, pressing forwards, then releasing, repeating the motion as the blade slides along the lock’s mechanism. He maintains the same rhythm for another ten seconds or so before he hears the springs give in their chamber, the latch giving way with a soft click.

Folding up the switchblade and tucking it into his front pocket, Rio rises from his crouch, the hand that had been pressing against the door now easing it open. Light floods the back porch and illuminates his face, and he can’t say he’s surprised when he finds the kitchen empty. He knows it’s been occupied recently, though, the abundant lighting and uncorked wine bottle providing sufficient proof of it.

He steps through the threshold and eases the door closed behind him, his eyes flitting over the familiar setting in front of him. Two wine glasses sit unwashed in the sink, but besides that, it’s pristine, just as he’s always known Elizabeth to keep it.

A bark of laughter to his right draws his attention, the corner of his lips drawing up when Elizabeth’s own laughter reverberates shortly after it. 

Cautiously, he strides towards the source of the commotion, finding his way to her bedroom with ease. He feels a distinct pressure swell in his chest at the thought of the last time he’d strolled down this hallway, and the memory of her calculated deviation is like a faded scar residing just below the surface of his skin. In itself, it bears no pain now, but the reminder of it is enough to make him falter slightly.

He powers on, though, determined to supersede the dull ache in his chest with something fonder as he reaches the door to her bedroom. 

Rio hadn’t ever thought himself capable of disregarding the past, but now, he thinks, it’s possible that he’s found a reason worth trying. 

The door is cracked open an inch, the artificial lighting and trickle of laughter streaming through the gap. He hovers a few moments longer—knows better than to enter unannounced with her sister in there—drinking in the carefree sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. It tapers off after a minute, and he can hear the intoxication loud and clear in her sister’s voice when she speaks.

“It was, without a doubt, one of the worst nights of my life,” Annie says in between hiccups of laughter. “I couldn’t meet Sadie’s eyes for two days straight.”

Elizabeth speaks up then, discernibly less intoxicated but tipsy nonetheless. “I don’t understand how you _still_ can’t remember to lock your door when you have him.”

Rio draws his lower lip into his mouth to stifle the bubble of laughter in his chest, the context of the conversation painfully overt. 

“Oh come on, like you and _Deansie_ ever locked the door. You’d be too scared that one of the kids would, like, step on a lego and then call 9-1-1 when they couldn’t get into your room,” Annie jokes, and Rio’s sure his expression is a carbon copy of Elizabeth’s in the moments following.

As if the mere mention of her dumbass ex weren’t enough to set him on edge already, the thought of them sleeping together has him clenching his jaw disdainfully.

He’s oddly relieved when she audibly blanches. “Yeah, your point would make a lot more sense if he lasted longer than five minutes. That window was never big enough for them to make any real trouble.”

And, well, yeah—he should’ve sensed she’d follow up with something of the like. 

Shaking his head to himself, he begins to inch away from the door, a smug grin tugging on his lips as he wanders over to her living room.

He makes himself comfortable on the corner of her coffee table, his eyes perusing the items decorating her home. Most of the surfaces are littered with picture frames, each displaying images of one of her kids or all of them together. 

A handful of them feature her sister and her friend, too, but only one of them holds a photo including her ex. In it, he’s clutching their two boys (Danny and Kenny, if he remembers correctly), but other than that, car-man is absent from her home. His grin widens into something more genuine at the thought of her finally kicking that conceited excuse of a husband to the curb.

The sound of footsteps draws his attention away from the mantle, and his smile morphs into a smirk when his eyes land on Elizabeth. She’s come out of her room alone, carrying a wineglass in each hand as she strolls towards the kitchen, her strides loose and easy as she passes through the archway. He makes no move to intercept her—rather, watches her stop at the island for a refill, her hands surprisingly steady as she pours a generous serving into each glass.

Rio is fully convinced that she hasn’t yet noticed his presence, so it throws him off balance when she casually turns on her heel once she’s refilled the glasses, her determined gaze settling on him as she strides into the living room. He’s sure his eyes must be just as wide as hers are hooded, because she smirks a little to herself as she takes a seat in the armchair across from him. 

She doesn’t seem even mildly shocked by his presence, just daintily sets one of the wineglasses on the end table before crossing one leg over the other, peering up at him from under the fan of her lashes as she does so.  She takes a lengthy sip from her glass before she breaks the silence, a twinge of heat sparking in his belly as his eyes trace where her lips wrap around the rim.

“I should just get you your own key at this point,” she comments, the slight rasp to her voice making him shift in place. He smirks down at her, humming lightly.

“Ain’t no fun in that,” he responds, gaze wandering around the room as she takes another generous sip of her drink. “How’d you know I was here?”

She snorts at that, shrugging remissly. “The suburbs don’t get that much traffic past midnight. Plus, I haven’t gotten to greasing the hinges on the back door yet.”

Rio huffs out a laugh, nodding absently. Not much he could’ve done about that. 

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, or do I have to guess?” She asks a moment later, tone dripping with sarcasm even as her lips quirk up at the corner, giving her act away.

“There always gotta be a reason?” He asks, masking his tone so that the question comes off more indifferent than he feels. Elizabeth’s head pivots back to him, her gaze having wandered like his own, and he swallows his laughter when she squints up at him.

“There’s always a reason with you,” she states definitively, and Rio’s smirk only widens.

“First time for everything, right?” He retorts, watching in satisfaction as her bold-faced certainty leaks from her expression. She plays with the stem of her wine glass, spinning the glass gently so that the deep red liquid swirls just beneath the lip of it.

“Are you here to—“ Elizabeth starts, but seems to rephrase the question in her head, clearing her throat abruptly. “Can this wait until Annie leaves?”

“And here I was thinkin’ we could all sit around the counter, laughin’ and drinkin’ rosé while your sister tells us ‘bout her new flavor of the month,” Rio banters, faux disappointment weighing down his tone.

Elizabeth’s gaze instantly morphs into a scolding glare, the intensity in it directly juxtaposing the way her cheeks flush in embarrassment, and Rio doesn’t even bother to smother his grin this time. She shakes her head at him in revulsion, speechless, before rising from her chair and grabbing the other wineglass at her side. She strides back towards her bedroom without so much as a glance back at him, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it so much as he rakes his gaze across her retreating form.

Several minutes pass before Elizabeth returns with her sister in tow, the most exasperated expression Rio thinks he’s ever seen targeted at someone who isn’t him contorting her delicate features. She shoots him no more than a passing glance before she’s veering towards the kitchen, wordlessly speaking volumes. He draws his lower lip between his teeth, smothering the smirk threatening to break out before he can make the situation even worse for her.

His attention is drawn to her sister when she stops dead in the archway to the kitchen, eyes falling on him from across the threshold. He raises an eyebrow at her, gracing her with a blithe twist of his lips.

“Yo.”

And he’d been mentally preparing for this—but then again, nothing quite rivals the smug expression Annie seems to automatically equip whenever he’s near Elizabeth.

“Well, I’m glad to see that Beth hasn’t _totally_ lost it. You’re really here,” Annie says, genuine in her surprise as she levels him with her prying gaze. He arches an eyebrow at her before briefly flitting his eyes to Elizabeth, studying her for a reaction. She’s stationed at the kitchen sink, dutifully cleaning out the four wineglasses at a deliberately easy pace. 

Rio merely hums in response to her sister’s words, attention wandering as his eyes track the tension lining Elizabeth’s back. It’s sudden; startling, even, how badly he wishes they were alone right now, knows that with just the right touch—

“You’re not here to like, secretly kill her, are you?” Annie blurts, interrupting Rio’s train of thought. “Cause even though that would suck enough on its own—I mean, she basically learned how to be an adult so that I didn’t have to—I have a feeling you don’t leave witnesses very often, and there’s a new episode of my favorite show that I’ve got taped at home which I can’t really watch it if I’m dead, so.”

Rio knows that Elizabeth has tuned back into her sister’s rambling when the tap is abruptly cut off. He tears his eyes away from her sister just long enough to take in her perturbed expression for the second time that night. She looks to be internally debating whether to strangle her sister or come up with something more nefarious, but Annie is oblivious to it.

Rio takes a minute to find his voice, amusement weighing heavy in his tone when he teases, “Nah, wasn’t feelin’ it tonight.”

He can feel Elizabeth’s gaze turn on him, and he turns his head to meet it with equal tenacity. She arches a copper eyebrow at him, as if daring him to elaborate on his statement, but he merely grins at her in response. He knows that she’s recognized the drollness in his words, the fraudulence of their implication, and he takes it in stride when her features grow more relaxed the longer her gaze remains locked with his.

The moment is broken when Annie coughs—it’s become more and more clear to him that she’s severely lacking in subtly all around—and Rio’s surprised to see that her features have softened as her gaze darts between them. Her eyes have widened, too, much like she’s walked in on something she doesn’t feel she was meant to see, and she clears her throat loudly, darting to retrieve her coat from the back of the couch in front of him.

“Right, well, since that’s out of the way, I’ll leave you two to do…” she trails off pointedly, gaze flicking between them once more.“Whatever it is that you do.”

Elizabeth pushes off the edge of the counter from where she had been hovering, rounding the corner of it to finally reenter the living room. “You’re not driving like this.”

Annie dismisses her concern with a remiss wave of her hand. “Relax, sis, I ordered an Uber. I’ll have Ruby drop me off tomorrow so I can grab my car before my shift.”

Elizabeth seems to relax at that, but her eyebrows are still furrowed as she asks, “When did you order an Uber?”

“Um, right around when you left to refill our glasses and I only had, like, three sips. I know your poker face, Beth, and you didn’t even break it out,” Annie quips, all too knowingly, and Elizabeth’s blush returns with a vengeance even as she levels her sister with a glare.

Rio watches the conversation unfold in mild amusement, fingers loosely laced on his lap in front of him. Annie casts him one last glance, something indecipherable flickering in her expression, before she’s moving towards the door, coat slung over her arm and her phone in her grip.

“Well, it’s great to see you’re alive and kicking. Good to know Beth isn’t hallucinating, either. She had us worried there for a bit,” Annie rambles, and Rio catches it in his periphery as Elizabeth drags a hand down the side of her face, her irritation only amusing him further.

“Are you finished?” Elizabeth asks tersely, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that reminds him of all those times she would really get into telling him off.

Annie lets out a huff, throwing her hands up in a show of outrage before spinning on her heel towards the front door. “Jeez, _okay_ , I’m going!”

Once she’s slipped out onto the porch, the door latch clicking shut behind her, Elizabeth releases a heavy sigh, immediately moving to lock the door behind her sister. Rio’s eyes track her as she does so, his gaze sweeping up and down her form with a fondness he hadn’t realized until recently that he had begun to feel towards her.

It’s quiet for a moment, the ever-present tension between them building until Rio cuts it open.

“She always have that big a mouth on her?”

His words are enough to loosen her up a bit as she chokes on a laugh, her feet padding on the hardwood as she enters back through the hallway, meeting his eyes.

“I don’t remember exactly how old she was but once she started talking, she never stopped,” she replies, her tone dry but affectionate as she paces back over to the kitchen. 

Rio rises from the coffee table, following Elizabeth wordlessly as she retrieves a bottle of bourbon from the bar cart at the far wall. She fixes him a glass, sliding it across the countertop to him before pouring one out for herself, falling heavily into one of the seats at the island.

Rio retrieves the glass before leaning back against the counter, leisurely taking her in as she sips from her own glass. He takes note of how the tendrils of her golden-red hair fall past her shoulders, framing her face where it falls against her temples. It’s the longest he’s ever seen it. 

“You look good, ma,” he comments, his tone conversational even with its underlying warmth. Her eyes snap to his and his chest clenches when he sees her expression—how surprised she is by those words. 

She drags her thumb over the edge of her glass, diverting her gaze from his. Rather than accepting it like she had all those months ago in the dealership, she evades the compliment, steering the conversation in the opposite direction.

“How are you?” She asks, not bothering with a topical transition, and she’s so soft-spoken when she says it that his resolve falters a bit. He shifts his weight, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the counter again, studying her thoughtfully.

“Alive and kickin’,” Rio echoes, an easy grin sliding onto his lips when his words cause her guard to lower a fraction. Her eyes are still trained out of the window beside him as she rolls them, a warm smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Pop’s been asking after your kid,” he adds before the silence between them can stretch on too long, and her eyes drift back to him again with a mild look of alarm.

“Jane?”

Rio nods. "Wants to know when she gon’ get back to guardin’ the slide and diggin’ holes with him,” he answers, his tone warm in a way that seems to lower her initial defenses. Her lips part imperceptibly, a statement on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it back down before it can spring free. He regards her with patience, taking a slow sip of his bourbon and allowing her the time to gather her thoughts.

“I don’t bring them to that park anymore,” Elizabeth admits quietly a moment later, tone loaded with guilt. Rio wets his lips swiftly, gaze darting out the window behind her, oddly determined to find the right words that’ll wipe the grief from her delicate features.

“Nothin’ keepin’ you away now,” he comments, but she shakes her head, brows furrowing slightly.

“That’s not the reason,” she replies, and it dawns on him that this isn’t a recent adaptation. It doesn’t have anything to do with the contact they’ve had in recent months. 

He arches a brow at her, prompting her to continue, and she twists her glass in a circle on the wooden countertop to occupy her restless hands.

“They knew who they were going to see whenever we went there. I couldn’t bring them back like nothing had changed, or have to explain to them that—“

She cuts herself off, though it’s clear enough to both of them where she’d been going with her explanation. She clears her throat, her cheeks pinking slightly.

“It wouldn’t feel right,” she brokers, opting against elaborating any further. Rio offers her a slight reprieve when he nods, following her point even if she can’t find the words to vocalize it.

“Guess we gotta find a new park then, huh? Time for somethin’ new,” He quips, grinning in earnest when her lips turn up at the corner, the remorse beginning to fade from her expression.

“Guess so,” Elizabeth replies softly, her eyes scanning his features as she brings her glass to her lips. 

They fall into a comfortable lapse of silence, both unable to tear their gazes away from one another until Rio drains the last of his bourbon, dropping it next to the sink before he rounds the island to stand before her. She turns in her seat slightly, back straightening absently as he moves to loom over her, and he swears he can hear her breath catch when he extends his first two fingers to brush at her bangs where they begin to curl over her eye. He brushes them to the side, his touch no more than a ghost’s kiss against her skin.

“You takin’ care of yourself when you ain’t lookin’ after all them babies?” Rio asks gently, his fingers lingering against the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyelids flutter briefly before she fastens her gaze to him, and his own drops to her lips when her tongue darts out to wet them.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m pretty much always looking after them,” she comments dryly, her words weighed down when she sighs, though he can hear the effect his touch is having on her in her voice. He tilts his head a fraction, regarding her curiously, attempting to get a read on her and the implication behind her words; her refusal to answer the same question with clarity.

“I told you we’re good, ma,” Rio drawls, the volume of his voice dipping into something more pacifying. “Seems like you forgettin’ that, like you still punishin’ yourself.”

Elizabeth breaks her gaze from his, shaking her head lightly, and the action makes his brows pinch together in confusion. He watches the rapid flashes of conflict dance across her expression as she grasps for an explanation, and he doesn’t think he’s ever witnessed her talk this _little_. 

“I _shot_ you,” she presses, the quivering syllables too-loud in the quiet of her vacant home, and Rio is startled by the contempt loaded in such a short statement, the extent of the damage left behind by her grief now explicitly laid out for him to take in.

“Sure did,” he replies, his tone deceptively casual, and she squints at him in reply, attempting to read him just as he had been with her. “Shot that husband o’ yours first, though, yeah?”

Elizabeth snorts at that, her features contorting with an entirely different semblance of remorse that has him suspecting that she wasn’t so torn up about that after all. “That’s not the same.”

Rio sighs heavily, leveling her with a deliberative gaze as he wrangles his irritation back beneath the surface of his voice. “We gon’ keep doin’ this same routine?” 

Elizabeth is taken aback briefly by his words, pulling her lips off of her glass so that she can level him with a curious gaze. 

“What?”

He arches a brow at her, painting on a dubious expression similar to the one he had given her when asked to elaborate on his comment about _hittin’ it._

“This ain’t somethin’ I forgot about overnight, sweetheart. You actin’ like I need remindin’ ‘bout the shit you pulled.”

Rio pauses briefly, taking in Elizabeth’s stunned expression as his words sit heavy in the minuscule space between them. When it looks as though she might try to fit another explanation in, he pushes on with a softer tone.

“Figured you knew by now that when I say we’re good, we ain’t gotta discuss it no more. There ain’t nothin’ left to say that you ain’t already said. ‘Least nothin’ that I need to hear,” he alleges, a note of finality in his tone, and it causes her to deflate, the beginning of another explanation instantly dying on her tongue.

They look at each other for a few beats as another bubble of silence encompasses them. Elizabeth is the first to burst it.

“I think—“

Rio quirks an eyebrow, spurring her on.

“I’m not used to being forgiven so easily. I keep expecting you to lord it over me and hold a grudge no matter how many times I apologize,” she admits, pointedly diverting her gaze from his as she does.

Rio sighs heavily, rocking his jaw a moment as he deliberates on how to respond. And maybe it’s those inquisitive blue eyes of hers, or the slight furrow to her brow that tells him she’s halfway to believing that that’s the kind of treatment she deserves, but the only thing he can definitively place is the urgency he feels to mend her distorted cognition.

“In this line of work, you gotta be real selective ‘bout who you burn bridges with. If holdin’ a grudge don’t give you a leg up on someone, it’s best to drop it,” he explains, leveling her with a gaze that he hopes will reinforce his words. “Wouldn’t do me any good when it comes to you.”

Rio observes as the tension in her taut shoulders releases its hold, the the self-reproach in her expression being replaced with something more thoughtful as she regards him again.

“Maybe if I still had a business that you could forcefully haggle a cut from,” she jokes, a trivial trace of spite in her tone. His lips pull into a smirk as he huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, see, from what I remember, it was _your_ negotiatin’ that landed us as partners,” he throws back, amusement coloring his tone, and a pleasant sort of warmth unfurls in his chest with a smile finally tugs at her full lips.

From one instant to the next, the air between them is shifting, his gaze locked steadfastly with hers. She tilts her head to the side a fraction, studying the lines of his face as she turns a thought over in her head. 

“You know, Annie asked a while back how you’d do it without us— laundering and moving the pills without the dealership,” Elizabeth says, and Rio can sense the question in her statement. He arches an eyebrow, his smirk playful and teasing as he looks down at her through his lashes.

“Sure, it shook things up— usin’ cash for cars was a helluva lot faster than waitin’ half a month for you ladies to finish returnin’ your microwaves and whatnot,” he says, smirk widening when Elizabeth serves him an emphatic eye roll. “Had to figure out a new system for the pills, too, but things are back up n’ runnin’ now. Like I said, once my clients got over my run-in with the feds, they came crawlin’ back for a cut of the action.”

She nods her head slowly, training a pensive gaze on him as she absorbs this information.

“Kinda strange not hearin’ you mouth off at every meetin’ n’ drop, though,” he adds, and he’s not surprised when she delivers a lengthier eye roll this time.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” she throws back, her voice monotone, unrelenting as she holds his gaze. There’s a fire in hers that he hasn’t seen in months, but once he clocks it, it’s impossible to ignore the delight that it sparks in him.

“Nah,” he contends, voice quiet as his body curves imperceptibly closer to hers. “It ain’t that easy to forget ‘bout'chu. Believe me, I tried.”

She draws in a shaky breath as he raises a hand, conciliatory, to clasp the back of her neck loosely. He can feel her pulse flutter rapidly beneath the pads of his fingers, watches as her tongue absently darts out to wet her bottom lip.

“Nothin’ about you has ever been easy, ma,” he drawls, smirking at her gawk of outrage before rectifying his thought. “Easy ain’t worth all the trouble you always causin’. Easy is borin’.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widen slightly, the indignation lining her features fading into something more carnal as her gaze dips, tracing the outline of his lips. Rio swallows, watching as her gaze drops even lower to clock it, and his grip on her tightens imperceptibly. He has more to say, admissions prying at his lips and leaping from his tongue as he caves to them.

“Ain’t a day with you gone by that didn’t leave me wantin’ more. Every time I think I got’chu figured out, you knockin’ me on my ass again,” he rasps, a curt laugh following his words, but there’s no humor behind it, the air thick with unbridled tension as their gazes lock once again.

“And I ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘till I can make some sense out of it.”

The moment is strained as his words settle over them—his eyes tracing over her hooded eyes and the vibrant flush to her cheeks as her own search his for a cue he hasn’t provided—and it’s sudden, urgent, when her hand darts to the side of his neck, clasping at it and yanking him towards her until their lips are colliding.

**Author's Note:**

> goodness gracious it's been over a month. how are you all? i missed you.  
> i hope this part was worth the wait! for whatever reason, revising this one was a VERY tedious process, but i'm incredibly happy with how it turned out, and at the end of the day, i think that's what matters most.  
> this is NOT the final part--i'm still not able to say for sure how many i plan on making, but i what i CAN tell you is that the rating will be changing very soon ;)  
> side note: i've been working on this is unison with my first one-shot, so hopefully now that i've finished this long ass part, i can take it off the back burner and get it up within the next couple of weeks.  
> as always, you all are amazing. i cannot thank you enough for your support. it really means the world to someone as passionate about writing as i am, and it's given me the confidence to go farther out of my comfort zone with it. i love every single one of you.  
> until next time, i hope i made you smile :)


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